Warmth
by StarMellon
Summary: Molly doesn't do well in the cold.


Ahh, still trying to get some practice in! Wanted this done before His Last Vow comes out tomorrow.

For the record, it was -41'c where I live. -10'c is practically sweater weather at this point, but that's apparently the record minimum for London, so that's what I'm going with.

Never actually written a kissing scene, so, uh, sorry about that. Un-beta'd, as per usual.

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><p>"It's <em>cold.<em>"

Sherlock sighs heavily, preparing tea for the two of them. "Yes, Molly, that does tend to happen with sudden fluxes of temperature. It takes approximately fourteen days for the body to acclimatize to significant atmospheric changes, and your body has had less than twenty-four hours to even begin that process." A flash of guilt washes over Molly, and she frowns while wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. She doesn't want to bother him much, no, but she despises the cold and does try to avoid it whenever possible. It's usually quite easily accomplished by wearing a few heavy jumpers while at the morgue, but this sudden cold snap (nearly -10'C!) had caught her quite off-guard.

Never mind the fact that she wasn't supposed to be staying much longer. Molly had been helping Sherlock with an experiment at 221B for two days now (something she did with startling frequency since John and Mary's wedding and their eventual moving-out, and, of course, her break-up with Tom). Although she slept in John's old room, it didn't stop her from feeling like she was often in Sherlock's way.

(Of course, he was the one who invited her over. And he was always oddly sweet... making their tea and actually cooking once and a while.)

So when Sherlock made his way back into the sitting room, carrying two steaming mugs of tea, she couldn't handle no voicing her apology.

"This is hardly your fault, Molly." Was Sherlock's response, before frowning.

She knew that look. "What's wrong?"

"I do believe there might be a way to warm up this room a little quicker."

"I'm in." Though, this was her third cup of tea, even though she was loathe to get up from beneath the blanket. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Sherlock nods absently, eyes darting around the room, and Molly gets up to quickly pop to the loo.

Upon her return, there was a roaring fire going in the fireplace. "Oh, _wow_."

"Yes," Sherlock confirmessmugly from his spot on the sofa, and Molly returns to her spot next to him, folding her legs under her. "It may still take some time to warm the room up, but it was the most expedient option."

Despite her attempt to bite back the smile, it forces its way to her lips anyway. "Thank you, Sherlock."

"Yes, well..." He pauses, staring at her. "You're still cold."

"I'll be fine in a 'mo."

His expression doesn't change, "come here, then."

Molly's not sure what to expect and she moves closer to him. Apparently it wasn't close enough for Sherlock, as he wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her snugly to his side.

His hand was quite a bit warmer than her cheek. Why was it so much warmer? The flat was _freezing_, even with the fire burning brightly. Could it be from the tea he had made?

"I didn't even know the fireplace worked." Molly admits with soft smile, curling closer to Sherlock under the blanket. Actually, his entire body was warmer than hers. _Lucky bastard_.

Sherlock adjusts his position, but makes no move to pull away from her, at least. "It isn't used very often." He mumbles, warm hand moving to thread through her hair. Molly shivers, though this time it's less from the cold. He was being oddly... affectionate, yes, that's the word, even with the colder temperatures. Not that it was unwelcome, just odd. "John would sometimes go through the trouble of using it, but I never saw the fuss."

"Oh." Molly says succinctly, being lulled by the sudden warmth surrounding her. She allows her head to drop slightly, so that it lay between Sherlock's shoulder and neck. She feels his lips and nose at the top of her head while his hand continues stroking through her hair. He's breathing deeper, she notes, and she is too. Each breath brings in the smell of burning wood and his light cologne.

She isn't quite sure when exactly the atmosphere changes. The pale skin of his neck and chest was showcased by the open collar of his shirt in a way Molly thought was quite fetching. Sherlock's free hand – the one currently not tangled up in her hair - starts to lightly caress the skin of her arm, moving upwards towards her own neck. She sighs, before mustering the courage to press a soft, closed-mouth kiss on his neck.

In response, Sherlock tilts her chin up to press a much warmer kiss on her lips, his tongue softly swiping against her lips. She lets out a happy sigh, opening her mouth and deepening the kiss.

They stay like that for some time, and it's soft and warm and Molly easily loses track of just how long they spend in front of the fire. Soon it turns into light nips on her neck, but nothing much farther than that. When Molly begins to become aware of her surroundings once more, she's almost completely on Sherlock's lap. One of his hands on her thigh, and the other once again playing with her hair.

She doesn't want to look at him, so she buries her head back in his neck. Molly doesn't want to break whatever spell he was under that was causing him to act this way, worried that if she makes so much of a sound he'll return to his senses and pull away. He's warm and she's finally warm and she's currently too overjoyed to handle that sort of heartbreak.

Fortunately, he spoke first. "It appears John was incorrect."

Molly had been so caught up in her internal ramblings that it takes her a moment to process Sherlock speaking. "Pardon?"

"He informed me that you would require a grand romantic gesture before becoming amenable towards a romantic relationship with me."

There were... quite a few things going on with that sentence. Molly was still trying to catch up. She was, however, aware that she was simply staring at him, and looked at the space over his shoulder instead.

"You..." Sherlock suddenly sounded quite unsure of himself, "you are, in fact, amenable to a romantic relationship?"

Well, might as well focus on that first, then. "Yes, you tit." She giggles, throwing her arms around his neck.

Tension she hadn't realized was there seems to ease out of Sherlock. "Good... good."

She laughs again, overjoyed, idly playing with his curls. They're soft and springy under her fingers. "When did this start?"

She knows she doesn't have to clarify what she means. "Before... I..." Sherlock pauses, "When I came back, I had planned... but you had..."

"Engaged," she finishes for him, frowning slightly before pulling back to look at him. A lot of his more subtle actions over the past year suddenly start making sense to her, clicking into place. "And you inviting me over here to assist in experiments, that was...?"

"I do enjoy working with you." Sherlock answers quickly, mirroring her frown. "And I greatly enjoy watching you work. And it seemed like the best course of action while I figured out if you would be... open to, to this."

Molly smiles again, pressing a soft smile to his lips. "What does that tell you?"

Sherlock smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before responding, "Exactly what I need to know, Molly Hooper."


End file.
